


All The Pretty Girls Can't Measure To You

by Vitanitas



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, Courtship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitanitas/pseuds/Vitanitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some reason, the God of Mischief just really wants in Tony's pants.</p><p>Or: five times Tony turned down Loki’s advances and one time he didn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Pretty Girls Can't Measure To You

**Author's Note:**

> For the FrostIron Fest prompt:  
> "#21 five times Tony turned down Loki’s advances and one time he didn’t"  
> I hope the dear anon who prompted this likes it ♥
> 
> The title is from the fun. song 'All the Pretty Girls'
> 
> Also a thank you to Tonystarkson for betaing!

**_1._ **

The sky was chaos, Tony having to weave and dodge through the hordes of robots that littered the atmosphere. Made from some hack named Doom, they were attacking the city in some sort of sick reenactment of the Chitauri invasion.

The 'Doombots' as the team had taken to calling them, were pathetic. Their AIs were horrible, barely able to fly straight much less perform the wide array of acrobatics the Mark 43 could. They looked horrible too, medieval armor with green capes. It disgusted Tony, both as an engineer and as someone with any amount of taste.

Despite the shoddy workmanship the bots had, they were giving the Avengers trouble just from the sheer number of them; like an angry swarm of bees they alighted on the city, burning buildings and attacking anything in their path.

A few had managed to jump Tony, dragging him out of the sky and landing on the roof of some building. They dog pile him, and cruel metal hands claw at him, trying to rip the armor from his body.

“Get-” He grunts, trying to hit them with his repulsors, “-OFF.”

Eventually, he’s able to turn on to his back and  releases the uni-beam, freeing himself from his attackers. Back on his feet, he busies himself fighting the bots not destroyed by the beam when a familiar voice sends chills down his spine.

“Hello, Man of Iron.” Loki greets, his armored body coalescing from the shadows.

Immediately Tony points a repulsor at him, adrenaline running through him and his heart pounding, still needing his other hand to fire at the remaining Doombots.

“Back off.” Tony growls, on edge from the long battle and really not wanting to deal with the God of Mischief as well.

Loki holds his palms up placating, awkwardly holding his (new) scepter in the crook of his arm as he does so. “I merely came to witness how the Avengers fared against Victor’s creations.”

“Really,” Tony sneers, returning his other palm in front of him as the bots attempt to surround him again. “On a first name basis and allying yourself with a guy who calls himself ‘Dr. Doom’?”

Loki’s lip curls in distaste, “Let it be known that he came to me first.” Tony snorts, but Loki continues, “I have not allied with him as of yet. I had planned to see how this battle turned out. As it stands, I am not sure if I will accept.”

“Well good for you.” The last bot is finally down, and Tony flips his face plate up to get a better look at Loki, who is leaning against the door to the stairway. “Why even consider it anyway? I always pegged you for the lone-wolf type.”

Loki considers him for a second, then apparently deigning Tony worthy, he explains, “Victor has wealth and power, a veritable army that he was willing to aid me with. That, and his own small amount of magical talent.” Loki shrugs. “It seemed a decent offer at the time.”

“Magic?” Tony questions, as slowly the destroyed bots around him begin to reassemble themselves. “Is that why these things won’t stay down?”

Loki only smiles. “Perhaps.”

Tony doesn’t have time to reply before a bot tackles him, sending him back into the fray. Green eyes watch him intensely as he battles, trying but ultimately failing to keep the Doombots down. He continues his barrage of flares and repulsors, tries ripping their limbs off- but they just keep getting back up.

"Shit..." He huffs, sending another repulsor at the same bot that keeps trying to rip his helmet off.

“Ah yes, using the same strategy over again will certainly yield a different result.” Loki drawls, the Doombots completely ignoring his presence.

“Are you going to tell me how to stop them?” Tony grunts as a bot jumps on his back.

“No.”

“Then shut up.” He shakes the damn thing off him, and goes to shoot it again when he notices the remains of the bots that the uni-beam had hit, their chest cavities destroyed, a faint glowing substance spilling on to the ground. They had been the only ones not to get back up again.

He curses, and using the laser he cuts through the remaining bots chests, aiming where their hearts would be on an actuall person. A disgusting liquid bleeds out from the destroyed metal, and the bots fall to the floor, convulsing and sparking before going still.

He waits a few minutes, panting as he makes sure that they won’t get back up again. They don’t.

“Well done.” Loki gives him a little round of applause. “It would seem I have a reason to refuse his offer now.” He grins wolfishly at Tony. “You have saved me much trouble in the future, I could kiss you.”

“Yeah, I think not.” Flipping the face plate back down, he has Jarvis locate the other avengers for him.

“Very well.” Loki murmurs, but doesn’t make a move to leave, instead continuing to lean against the door and watch him.

“Was there something else you wanted?” Tony asks, irritated. He needs to get back out there, tell the others how to keep the damn things down, but he can’t leave Loki here. Technically Loki was missing from Asgard, escaped from his prison cell and they were all under orders to apprehend him on sight. Not that Tony alone could catch him, so it would probably be best if the god conveniently magicked himself away so Tony could get back to the battle.

“Yes, actually...” Greens eyes spark with mischief, as they travel up and down the Iron Man armor. “There was something I wished to ask you...”

“And?” Tony prompts, impatient.

“Would you like me to suck your cock?”

The world screeches to a stop, Tony's usually fast tongue suddenly unable to move. Trying and ultimately failing to come up with a response.

“I- What?”

“Well?” Loki asks expectantly. “I am quite skilled, I assure you.”

Tony's mind frantically attempts to back-pedal. Where in this little encounter did Loki get the idea that- _What??_

He can feel his brain short-circuit, could hear the metaphorical white noise of his brain being unable to comprehend the words that came out of Loki's mouth. _The mouth that apparently wants to wrap around his dick._ Unfortunately, the absurdity of the situation does nothing for Tony’s libido, and the thought of Loki’s mouth around him sends his blood rushing south.

Still, this is Loki, silver-tongue or not he might just bite his dick off. And he was Thor’s little brother. Thor’s psychotic little brother. Thor’s _very attractive_ psychotic little brother.

 _No no-_ he tells himself _, you’re with Pepper and very happy and the freebie cards don’t count for war criminals_. Besides, saying yes might actually insult the god’s manhood or honor or whatever and get him killed.

Although… saying no might yield the same result.

Tony swallows, unsure and at this point a little more than terrified.

“Er, no thank you?” he tries, hoping that going the polite route will save his skin.

Obviously disappointed, Loki sighs, dropping his intense gaze from Tony's face to settle on his scepter. “Pity.”

With a look of complete boredom he then raises his scepter, and blasts Tony off the roof.

As Tony reels from the hit and tries to regain control and not crash into another building, he finds that he's still not sure what the correct answer would have been.

**_2._ **

Not too long after the failed Doombot attack on Manhattan, Loki goes to Shield. In another expensive and well-cut suit he appears in the middle of an Avengers meeting. Without preamble he stands tall and regal on the middle of the conference table, he faces Tony, his face intense and serious as he tells them all of their impending destruction.

“The Chitauri will return,” his voice rings around the room as he pointedly ignores the various weapons aimed at him.

“And you’re going to lead them again?” Fury growls, his pistol pointed at Loki like he actually thinks it could hurt him, “Like that worked out so well for you the last time.”

“No.” the god says simply, green eyes never once leaving Tony’s, “I am no friend of the Chitauri. Or their leader, who will come to earth in one year’s time to raze it to the ground. You must be ready.”

“Really.” Fury says, his voice laced with venom, “And why should we believe you? You were so chummy with them last time.”

“No.” He says once more, and really, Tony was going to start squirming if Loki didn’t turn his gaze elsewhere. “My time with the Chitauri was not pleasant.”

Here the word is poignant, and suddenly the others have disappeared, the room slowly melting away as well, until only he and Loki remain. A space void of all except the two of them.

“ ’Pleasant.’ ” Tony repeats, more statement then question. He looks up at the god, whose face is expressionless. “Tell me.”

Loki’s eyes harden. “No.”

“Is that all you’re going to say, Blitzen?” Tony demands, “Because if I don’t get details, I’m not going to back you up like you apparently want me too.” He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, looking pointedly at the god.

For a moment, Loki seems so enraged that Tony thinks he may have been asking a bit much. Still, Tony holds his ground. He has to know; refuses to make a move without knowing the variables.

Slowly, Loki lets out a breath, and moves to sit on the end of the table in front of Tony.

He slouches, his regality leaving him; his head bowed and long fingered hands resting in his lap. The moment passes and he straightens; eyes forward and empty of emotion.

He speaks.

And the words he speaks are rife with blood and pain and poison. His words fall from his mouth in a steady stream; continuing and building on one another for what seems like an eternity. They are spoken carefully, without inflection; a mere recounting of facts, as if he was speaking about someone else.  Still, an air of familiarity permeates his tale, and strikes a chord within Tony. The pain, the fear.

The fall.

He can’t breathe.

Consciously, he forces his lungs work, slowly, taking deep breathes as Jarvis has instructed him on the nights he has spent backed into the wall and unable to move. He tries to regain his calm, while the last few words leave Loki’s lips. His expression never changed as he spoke, although his eyes were never on Tony, but somewhere very far away. A dark place without stars.

“Alright.” Tony gasps, once he can force the word out, “Alright.” and the next moment they’re back in the meeting and Loki is still standing on the table, his face a perfect mask.

“I believe him.”

\--

The sun is just falling behind the horizon, casting an orange glow onto the penthouse bar when Loki shows up again. Tony had been pouring himself a drink, the amber liquid a compliment to the fiery sky outside, when Loki appears in the seat next to him.

“May I at last have that drink you promised me?” he says, voice smooth as velvet, as if he hadn’t just told Tony about the horrific tortures a mad titan alien had put him through, and that said titan was  making his way to earth.

 “Have you come here to have a drink or give me more bad news?” Tony huffs, but pours him a glass anyway.

“I apologize if what I told you has shaken you,” Loki holds the glass in his hand casually, not yet taking a drink, “I was hoping you and I could, distract ourselves… if only for a moment.”

“Distract ourselves.” Tony deadpans, “And how do you suggest we do that?”

“I could bend you over this bar and fuck you, for one thing.”

Taken off guard, Tony chokes and spits his drink over the counter. “What-” he coughs.

Loki merely raises an unimpressed eyebrow, and removes his hands from the now scotch-covered bar. “You heard me.”

“Are you serious?”

Loki frowns. “Would you prefer it the other way around? We could negotiate, of course.”

“No- Loki-” Tony grasps for words, completely off balanced -again- by Loki’s sudden proposition. Loki's complete lack of subtlety or his fucking with Tony's mind again, or whatever the hell this was, is the last thing he needs today.

“Thought so.” Loki smirks.

“I mean-” Tony groans, running a hand down his face. “No. No, I don’t want us to fuck on top of my bar.”

“Then perhaps-”

“I don’t want us to fuck at all.” Tony clarifies, finding it strange to be on the other side of this conversation for once. To be fair, he usually got the picture the first time around.

Loki’s eyes narrow dangerously, his lips pressing together in a thin line and Tony realizes he just turned down the God of Mischief. Again. The guy who threw him out a window not two years ago, and blasted him in the face when he refused a blow job.

Shit.

“I see.” Loki grits through his teeth. He places his glass back on the flooded counter and stands.

“Er, no hard feelings right?” Tony says belatedly, hoping he could lessen the blow to Loki's pride. “I uh, appreciate the offer, but it’s been a verrry long day and-”

“I understand.” Loki interrupts; his voice cold, “Farewell Stark.” He gives Tony a final disappointed look before vanishing.

Tony sighs, turning back to the bar and pouring himself another drink.

It was going to be a long night.

The next day the news reported three buildings that had been slated for demolition had been mysteriously destroyed and burned to the ground.

**_3._ **

It is a classy bar, dimly lit and solemn, one that only catered solely to the ridiculously wealthy and the immensely famous is the chosen location for Tony to drown his sorrows at.

Pepper dumped him.

Or maybe Tony dumped her.

It was complicated really, but also it wasn’t complicated at all. Tony, as volatile and self-obsessed as he is, actually feels that the Iron Man gig is his duty. It’s not that he feels ‘honor-bound’ as Thor or Steve would tell him, it’s just… It feels right. It feels right to him, and he can’t see himself stopping being Iron Man until he physically can’t anymore. With the world _maybe_ coming to an end in the near future, he was needed now more than ever. And Pepper…

She understood. She did, she knows how important it is to him, saving people, doing what he can to fix his mistakes. But she also knows what she wants, what she can handle.

And it’s not watching Tony getting killed. It’s not never getting married or having kids.

Tony understands. Maybe in the end it’s better, because Tony loves her too much for her to be unhappy.

But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

So Tony orders another round, takes a sip and lets himself feel just a little bit numb.

There’s a chuckle to his right, a woman’s voice, velvety and dark. Taking a glance he sees a gorgeous, dark haired woman seated next to him.

Her skin is pale, offset by her hair and startling green eyes. Inspecting further, she has amazing curves, not too much but definitely not too little. Her dark green dress is tasteful but sexy, and her voluminous black hair is artfully held back by a golden jeweled headband.

"What's so funny?"

"You are,” she chuckles, “Sitting here, wallowing in your sorrows. It’s pathetic.”

Okay, wow. The audacity of this lady was astounding. Not to say that Tony wasn't intrigued, he liked confident women, the kind that wouldn't put up with his crap. It was kind of his type in fact.

But there was something about her, something in her face or her manner, or maybe it was the accent he couldn’t quite place, that was familiar to Tony.

"I’m sorry, have we met?"

"Perhaps, “she chuckles again, like a tinkling of champagne glasses, and she blatantly runs her gaze up and down his body. "But if we have not, I would not be adverse to us becoming better acquainted.”

Tony takes a sip of his drink, lets the burn slowly flow down his throat considering. He could take her home. Have a night of some fantastic drunk sex and have her gone by morning. She was beautiful, willing, and looked different enough from Pepper it might help soothe the ache.

But, well... He didn't really want too. Another night, another stranger... He’s done that for most his life; and nights like that couldn't compare to the few years he had with Pepper, something stable and warm.

"Sorry," he says instead, "I appreciate the offer, believe me, but no thanks. Not tonight."

The look on her face suggests she’s not used to rejection, morphing from shock to rage in an instant, before at last settling on a mix of frustration and acceptance.

She grabs his drink from his hands and downs it. "Even in this form you reject me, Stark.” she says, placing the glass back on the bar with a clink.

And finally, through his drunken haze Tony puts the pieces together: the face, the eyes, the accent... "Loki?"

"No Stark, I am the Lady Gaga." She drawls, and signals to the bartender, "Long Island iced tea."

Dumbfounded and drunk, Tony just stares. Loki as a woman. Sipping a Long Island, in a low-backed green dress.

Huh.

He orders another drink.

A few minutes pass, each nursing their drinks in silence, until Loki speaks again.

"In truth, I had thought you would be easier to seduce in this form, that you were perhaps only of the womanly persuasion." She sighs, tapping the glass with her finger, “And that maybe that was the reason for your past refusals.”

"Well, you're wrong there." Tony chuckles, "I’m definitely more of an equal opportunity guy."

"But not, it would seem, for me." She says, her eyes are hard, glaring at her drink as if she wants to throw it; out a window maybe.

And it's her voice, the very real dejection he hears in it, that gives Tony pause. Was Loki really so upset he had rejected her? Granted, this was the third time, and she was in her smoking hot female form and Tony could see how rejection could be offensive; but why? Loki, of whatever gender Loki decided to be, could have anybody she wanted. Why is Tony so special?

So he asks. “Why?”

Green eyes, skillfully outlined in black eyeliner Tony notes, narrow suspiciously. “Why what?”

“Why me?” He says, gesturing around the bar with his glass, “Y-you could have anybody. You’re gorgeous,” Tony winces, the last word had come out slurred and definitely more lecherous then he had intended. Apparently he's more inebriated than he thought. Undeterred, he continues, “Why do you want me? You hate me.”

And it hits him then that he really is confused, and his drunken mind can barely handle the logic. He’s an avenger. Loki hates avengers. So why…?

“I do not hate you. And…” She takes a slow drink, lips lingering on the glass before she speaks again, eyes watching the liquid as it settles, “…I am not sure why. Perhaps I think the chase is thrilling.” She snorts, and sets the glass back on the bar.

“That’s it?” Tony can’t help but feel the outrage rising in his chest, a sudden surge of indignation, “You just want in my pants because I’ve turned you down? Well sorry sister, if that’s all you want you can forget about it.” Angrily he takes a swig of his scotch, setting the glass back down on the counter harshly,

Her face pinches as if she swallowed something foul, “I am not a dog, Stark. I do not chase you to make you my conquest.”

“Really.” Tony scoffs, “Do you like me then? Does Loki have a little crush?”

Instantly, the sound of glass shattering fills the room. Loki’s glass is destroyed in her hand, blood and alcohol having spilled onto the counter with a scattering of glass shards. The soft murmur of the bar disappears quickly, all eyes turned towards the woman at the bar, her face murderous for all that it is still beautiful. The bartender looks at Tony questioningly, but Tony waves him off and watches Loki, interested in what she’ll do next.

Eventually, the chatter starts up again, and slowly Loki picks the glass shards out of her hand. She sighs.

“What of it, Stark? Maybe I find you interesting; maybe I want to break your neck after we tumble in your bed. What difference does it make?”

“Well…If you were generally interested I might give you the time of day.” He shrugs, “Maybe I don’t want another one-night stand bad decision.”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“’You heard me.’” He says, “Unless you’re serious, I’m not interested.” He sticks his tongue out at her like a child.

 “So I must win your affection before I am allowed into your bed?” Loki asks incredulously.

“Yeah.” He says, and goes to take another drink, but she places a bloody hand on his wrist to stop him.

“Then you wish for me to court you?” Her eyes are focused on him, green and unreadable.

And Tony, in all his drunk brilliance thinks, what the hell. “Yeah. Court away, babe. Woo me, I dare you.” She lets go and he take the last swig of his scotch, the world now having a pleasant spin to it.

A tiny smirk rises on her lips, “Very well then.”

**_4._ **

The gifts were really a bit much in Tony’s opinion.

They weren’t even good gifts. If they were gifts at all, Tony still wasn’t quite sure that they weren’t just vaguely disguised threats.

The first was a dagger. It showed up in his bathroom while he was in the shower (and really- how is that not terrifying?) Loki hadn’t shown up in the recording, one minute the dagger wasn’t there, and then it was on the counter in all its curved and sharp wickedness. There even was a green ribbon tied around the hilt with a note saying to ‘To Anthony” scrawled in elegant script.

It was one of Loki’s own throwing knives, according to Thor, and the bewildered but pleased look Thor had on his face when Tony showed it to him filled him with dread.

The next was a box of poisons. Really, really deadly poisons. Like deadlier than black mamba venom deadly. He had been eating lunch in the workshop with Bruce when the box (wrapped in expensive looking green and sliver wrapping paper with a black silk bow) had appeared right next to his sandwich.

Again, vaguely threatening. But his food had been tested and was apparently poison-free, and Bruce had been delighted to get a look at what were most certainly some not-from-earth chemicals.

Then there was the poetry. Written on that same parchment and covered in what was now familiar script, Loki wrote Tony poems.

Really long and abstracts poems. After pouring over the increasingly elaborate phrasing and metaphors, and having Jarvis help decode some various strings of letters and numbers, Tony discovered that what all the poems basically boiled down to was, ‘let’s fuck.’

Lovely.

A few more trinkets, and even a few books popped up in more questionable places, until finally they stopped.

Days passed, then weeks, and Tony hadn’t received a single gift. Not thinking anything of it, and more than a little relieved, Tony went on with his business. He figured his lack of response had discouraged the god of mischief enough that he gave up.

Tony was relaxing in his reconstructed Malibu home, almost three weeks since the last gift, when there was a knock at his door.

“ _Sir, Loki Laufeyson requests entry, but his current state of appearance leads me to suggest you act otherwise_.”

Well that wasn’t encouraging.

Tony is perfectly ready to ignore the god outside his door and sneak down into his workshop, but the trickster must sense Tony’s presence or something because he speaks to him through the door.

“If you do not let me in I will break down this door, I went through a lot of trouble for this gift.”

Reluctantly, Tony shuffles to the door and cracks it open.

“What do you wa- why are you covered in blood? Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

Glaring at him, Loki uses a bloody hand to force the door open and come in, dragging a very large and bloody something behind him. He’s a mess, blood staining his armor and travel furs, a large tattered bag slung over his shoulder. One of his arms seems to have had all its armor ripped off, a dark circling of bruises and cuts along the bicep.

He drops whatever it is in the middle of his living room and looks at Tony with his bloodied face beaming with pride.

“Beloved, I have brought you the severed head of-”

“That’s a giant fucking rabbit.”

Loki’s mouth twitches at the interruption, but otherwise retains his cheery smile. “Yes, it is. It is known as the Lapin Géant of Caerbannog. I journeyed to Nidavellir to slay it for you as a gift.”

It is scariest looking rabbit Tony has ever seen, and it was currently spilling blood onto his hardwood floor. Or the head was anyway. It’s at least as big as his coffee table, its ears twice as long. Its white fur is filthy with dirt and blood, large yellow eyes wide; its mouth open in a silent scream, huge gruesome looking teeth gutting from its jaw.

“…Why?”

“On Asgard, a warrior shows his battle prowess to his lover; to show he is worthy of their affection.”

“I’ve seen you fight before,” Tony remarks, walking around the severed rabbit’s head to get a better look.

Loki rolls his eyes, “I doubt you find my destruction of your city very endearing.”

“True,” Tony snorts, “But you know, this isn’t really how you ask someone out on earth.”

At this Loki grins, “Yes, I am well aware of that. But I felt if I performed my courting in the way of your culture, you would not find me sincere.”

And well, yes, if Loki had tried to wine and dine Tony he probably would have laughed in his face.

Loki pulls the bag from his shoulder, and begins to dig around in it, “I’ve brought you the pelt as well.” He pulls out a bundle of long fur, as clean and white as new fallen snow, holding it out to Tony.

And Tony doesn’t really know what to say. The pelt is beautiful while the severed head on his hard wood floors is terrifying, but he’s… touched. Loki had been gone for three whole weeks hunting this thing down to kill it. For him.

His armor was battered and bloody, his normally feckless appearance marred with dirt and gore, but his face was so open and hopeful; offering what his culture would dictate as one of the most badass gifts ever.

When Tony can do nothing more than stare at him, Loki’s face drops.

“Ah, but perhaps I was mistaken…” He falters, shoving the pelt back in the bag, “I had heard you liked large rabbits so I assumed… I apologize, you would rather be courted as a normal mortal would yes?”

“Loki…”

“I wasn’t sure how you would accept my gift…” He hesitates, before pulling a smaller square of white fur from the bag. “While I was in Nidavellir, I had this made as well.”

Uncertainly, he drops it into Tony’s palm.

It’s a necklace; two delicate chains of gold looped together, and on the lower one hangs a gunmetal pendant. Two snakes, circling each other in the shape of an S are intricately carved into the pendant. A small glass bead with a triangle etched into it is embedded in the middle.  It’s, well, beautiful.

“Jewelry?”

Loki pouts, “If you are going to mock me-”

“No no no-” Tony interjects before Loki can get properly offended, “I’m just surprised.”

Loki fidgets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. A barely noticeable movement but for how close they’re standing. “Yes, well...”

Tony has to hold back a laugh. The guy is actually nervous. Can barely keep eye contact with Tony and its hilarious. Loki, who was screaming for people to kneel not two years ago, who almost destroyed New York and had lived thousands of fucking years was nervous about giving Tony a gift.

If that wasn’t fucking flattering in the most fucked up way possible Tony didn’t know what was.

But still…

“I’m still not saying yes.”

Loki opens his mouth, probably to shout some obscenities at him, but Tony keeps talking. “It’s a start though.” He wraps the necklace around his neck, and Loki’s eyes widen in surprise. “The rabbits pretty badass, you know. Maybe I’ll put it up in the den on a plaque, like a crazy hunting trophy.”

Hesitantly, while Tony is busy babbling about redecorating his house, Loki asks “The gifts… please you then?”

“Yeah,” He says, giving the god a grin, “They do. Thank you.”

Loki gives him a small smile in return, “You’re welcome.”

**_5._ **

The war for all the nine realms, perhaps the entire universe rages around them, the dead and debris scattered across the battlefield like discarded toys. The day they dreaded and prepared an entire year for had begun, progressing towards its crescendo, leaving them all separated, fighting and crawling their own way through the carnage and destruction.

Somewhere in the midst of the chaos lay a dying god and a wounded mortal, the battle having already gnawed and spit them out unneeded and useless.

The storm that encloses them is harsh and dirty, Thor’s wrath whipping up dirt and rubble. In the eye of the storm Tony kneels, surrounded by broken buildings and fire. Loki lies in his arms bloody and still, the only movement the slight shifting of his chest from his ragged breathing.

He hadn't saved Tony, not really, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and Loki was hit instead of him. He took the beam from the gauntlet straight on-and Tony couldn't bare to look at Loki’s torso, his destroyed armor, the burnt and bleeding flesh. Around them the battle goes on, Thor now in some sort of berserker rage as he attacks Chitauri after Chitauri.

Mercifully, the battle had been lead onto an abandoned planet, its people long dead and its buildings almost unrecognizable in their decay. But still, Tony can see them, recognize them for what they are, and it disturbs him how an entire civilization can just be gone. It makes him itch, to fly back out into the fray and fight- for these people who had their home destroyed, for earth that might very well be destroyed, and for the mangled and bleeding body in his arms.

But he can’t. A wayward blast left the armor ruined, the arc reactor barely keeping the shrapnel out his heart much less able to power the suit. He’d take it off, but currently it was the only thing protecting him, and Loki, from Thor’s storm.

So instead he does what he can. He stays out of the way, and keeps the one who took a hit for him company as the universe ends. It’s awkward to hold someone with the armor on, particularly so after hours of battle, but Tony is useless out there now any way. In his metal clad arms he cradles Loki’s head, the god’s breathing shallow and labored.

"I suppose now would be an inappropriate time to ask for your hand?" Loki whispers, weakly looking up at Tony with his mouth turned up in a bloody smirk.

"So you want to marry me now?" Tony can't help but chuckle, even as his eyes begin to burn with tears, "I thought you were the kinda guy who would be terrified of commitment."

"Mmm. Perhaps I was, before I met you." He tries to smile at him, but a painful cough wrecks his body, more blood trickling down his lips.

"Loki..."

"D-don't!” Loki gasps, his breaths wheezing and painful, “Don't say yes because I'm dying." He grips his arm, glaring at him with his remaining strength. "It'd ruin the fun of it. ‘Thrill of the chase' and what not."

“Okay,”He tries, and Tony has to pause to take a breath; trying not to shake as Loki looks up at him with green eyes that are slowly beginning to lose their focus, "Okay. Fuck you Loki, I'm not going to marry you."

Relieved, Loki smiles, his mouth bloody but his eyes soft, and relaxes into Tony’s arms once more. He closes his eyes, content. "Good."

They don't speak anymore after that, although his hand stays curled around Tony’s arm, and Tony wishes his armor was gone so he could feel it. But the hand stays there, as both of them simply breathe while the storm and war continues to rage around them.

Tony isn’t sure how long they stay there, in the eye of the storm, can’t bring himself to care as he watches Loki’s breathing begin to slow.

Rain hits the ground, slowly, like the falling of tears and settles the dust. Eventually, the sound of battle around them begins to fade, and with it, Loki's breath.

His hand falls from Tony’s arm.

Tony feels as broken as his armor, as he grips the limp body in his arms.

Then there is light, and an explosion that rips through the cosmos.

**_+1._ **

Green eyes, battle weary but very much filled with life are locked onto Tony’s own, distracting him enough that he only hears the tail end of Thor’s explanation.

“And so…” Thor says, his often booming voice now softer and filled with pride, “It would seem that because of my brother’s action during the infinity battle, the Norns have found it in them to resurrect him, and Odin has absolved him of his past deeds.”

Loki, from where he stands beside his brother simply snorts, and looks out across the New York skyline, refusing to give Tony a second glance.

The others give Thor their good wishes, Loki their suspicious glances and unsaid threats before leaving the landing pad where the Bifrost had touched down. They know how Loki died, had been there when he was hit, so Tony supposes they’re giving them privacy, and he's grateful.

But Tony can't speak, can't say a word.

The last time he saw Loki, the universe was ending and the god was dead in his arms. When the battle had ended and the gauntlet had been destroyed, he had had to hand his cold body over to Thor, and see the thunderers face fade from rage to fresh grief and sorrow. That was months ago, months filled with pain and grief and guilt- of longing for what might have been…

And now here he was. Alive. A little worse for wear, granted; his face pallid and deep circles under his eyes.

It is not until the last of the Avengers has returned inside that Loki turns his gaze to him again.

“Anthony…”

Unthinkingly, Tony moves closer, Loki’s tired eyes watching him as he raises a hand to the gods face. Minutely, Loki leans into the touch, the faintest raising at the corner of his mouth.

“Will you-”

The sound of Tony’s hand smacking against the gods face is loud enough that it startles a flock of pigeons.

In shock, Loki slowly turns his face back to him, a hesitant hand reaching to his cheek where a red mark is starting to bloom. “What-?"

“That’s for dying, you asshole!” Tony shouts.

Loki’s shock quickly shifts into his own rising anger, “If some _idiotic mortal_ hadn’t gotten himself caught in the crossfire of the gauntlet, maybe I wouldn’t have had to! If you had just stilled your foolish tongue for once in your pathetic life!” He begins to pace, hands balled into fists at his sides, “After everything I’ve done-

“Loki-”

“I almost lost my arm to that horrible rabbit and yet you still don’t think me sincere-”

“Loki-”

And now there are tears in Loki’s eyes and he angrily wipes at the with the heal of his palm, “Of course, the God of Lies being sincere-”

“Loki-"

“What?!” He whirls on Tony in rage, his face a complete mess of tears.

“Let’s have dinner.”

“I-”Loki’s jaw goes slack, taken completely off guard for once. “What?”

“We should have dinner.” Tony repeats, looking at Loki expectantly.

Emotions flicker over Loki’s face, fast and unreadable, before his mouth at last settles in a grim line. “No.”

Taken back, Tony blinks. “Excuse me?”

“No. I will not have my efforts from the last year wasted because you wanted to have the last word.” He growls, stalking towards Tony.

“What-”

He gets on one knee and roughly grabs Tony’s hand, “Anthony, would you care to join me for dinner, and then afterwards return to your chambers to rut into each other like animals?”

“Ugh,” Tony groans in exasperation, rubbing a hand down his face. “Yes Loki, I would like to have dinner and later insanely intense sex with you.”

“Good.” Loki smiles, and stands gracefully, “I would like to have pasta or fish, please take us to a suitable place.”

“Why do I have to do all the work now?” Tony whines.

“Because I am weary and do not know New York as well as you. Now let us go before my brother tries to congratulate us.” Grabbing grabs Tony’s hand he leads them back into the Tower, past the other avengers who had apparently been plastered to the window, and Thor who looks close to tears.

"So," Tony questions, as they’re making their way out of the building, "Did the ‘Norns’, or whatever you call them, really resurrect you?"

Loki hums, his hand still holding onto Tony's tightly, "I am not sure. It could be that dying then had been against the Norns plan for me, and they set about to rectify that. Or perhaps something went amiss when the gauntlet was destroyed. But..."

"But?" Tony asks, curious.

Here, Loki leans down and whispers in his ear, his voice alight with fondness and mischief, "I think, perhaps, fate did not wish to have us parted."

Tony shoves him, and Loki laughs; a light and free sound. It’s nice, something he wouldn't mind hearing again, so Tony tugs on their joined hands, brings Loki down to his level and presses their lips together. It's a sweet, chaste thing that Loki smiles into, before deepening it with his tongue and a hand in Tony's hair.

The feel of Loki’s lips against his, their bodies pressed so close together; is beautiful, and it feels right, like the sun is rising in his chest with its warmth.

It makes him wonder, as the kiss becomes more heated, and their breaths coming faster with their dinner plans are quickly forgotten, why he hadn't said yes a year ago.


End file.
